By ScruffyChef SMYTH
Lecce, Italy
Turkey, tahini, and a touch of chaos — a Thanksgiving that’s loud, luscious, and irresistibly Italian.
Every November, Americans across the world cling to the fantasy of a “simple Thanksgiving.” And every year, I’m reminded: simplicity and I are casual acquaintances at best. Especially this year, as I celebrate in my adopted home under ancient olive trees in the countryside of Lecce — Villa Binda. When half the globe squeezes around my table like a gloriously mismatched family reunion? Forget “simple.”
Here in Puglia, Thanksgiving doesn’t tiptoe in; it arrives like a Verdi-esque march, with Aida’s passion, each dish touching memories past and those to come.
Each dish touching memories past and those to come.
Ogni piatto tocca i ricordi del passato e quelli a venire.
A League of Nations at the Table
This year’s guest list reads like diplomatic roll call: Italians (of course), an Australian with Calabrian roots and suspiciously British instincts, a steadfast Canadian, a charming Belge, and a handful of others who refuse neat categories.
Truly, as many personalities as olives on a Puglian tree — and that’s no small harvest.
Everyone arrives carrying a story, an opinion, and, if we’re lucky, a bottle of something intriguing. Conversations overlap, weave, collide — yet somehow everyone feels heard, argued with, and adored in equal measure.
The Vibe: Festive Chaos, Lightly Supervised
Thanksgiving at Villa Binda is many things — but serene it is not.
The BonnaPane en suite, once the domain of quiet nobility, now pulses with turkey, laughter, and culinary anarchy. The vibe is “festive chaos with multinational influences,” which is my polite way of saying over the top, but joyfully so.
And in the kitchen? Yours truly — because nothing is more dangerous than a cook with feelings and a well-stocked pantry. Around me, Brigita and Alessandra glide like benevolent spirits, orchestrating service and kitchen magic, keeping the whirlwind of plates, laughter, and aromas deliciously in check.
Every corner smells of butter and roasting herbs, with whispers of za’atar and pomegranate sneaking in from the cranberry salsa. There is warmth, noise, and the occasional dropped fork — all part of the joyful symphony.
The Menu: Tradition With a Passport
We keep the spirit of Thanksgiving intact, but the flavors? They’ve been abroad, flirted with, and brought home to play:
- Roasted turkey — bronzed, aromatic, and insisting on its starring role
- Sausage stuffing — hearty, herby, unapologetically rowdy, with a cheeky Puglian twist
- Mushroom gravy — deep, velvety, and crafted with the kind of obsessive care that would make even Thomas Keller nod in approval
- Brussels sprouts — crisp, caramelized, kissed with cream, butter, and pane gratinée, whispering “eat me first”
- Cranberry salsa — the classic, but flirted with Middle Eastern spices, making it impossible to ignore
If you’re celebrating an American holiday in southern Italy, why shouldn’t it dance with tahini, za’atar, pomegranate, and warming spices that make late autumn feel poetic? Each bite a story, each plate a passport.
The Atmosphere: Renoir Meets Mrs. Bucket
The table is a study in whimsy and elegance:
Renoir-soft hues, candlelight worthy of Mrs. Bucket (Hyacinth Bouquet), and Italian romance that makes even leftovers look ready for their close-up. Napkins tumble casually over the edge, wine glasses catch the light like tiny chandeliers, and a hint of olive-scented evening drifts in from outside.
Outside, a Puglian evening settles in — mild, olive-scented, gently magical — the kind of night that promises the meal will be unforgettable before the first bite is even served.
And the Stories…
There’s wine tasting with Dialetta — always a mix of education, mischief, and slightly competitive sipping.
There are bursts of laughter from the kitchen, triumphant shouts when a dish lands perfectly, and whispered negotiations over who gets the last bite.
It’s the quieter moments, though, that linger: friends leaning over platters to share stories, wine glasses clinking in uneven harmony, the soft hum of many nations blending into one table.
And if the turkey lingers in the oven?
If the salt is momentarily forgotten?
If the candlelight supper threatens to become only candlelight?
Truly — who cares?
Because in this warm, wild corner of Salento, what we’re really celebrating is connection. Everything else is just deliciousness, chaos, and love on a plate.
Italian:
E se il tacchino si trattenesse nel forno?
Se il sale venisse momentaneamente dimenticato?
Se la cena a lume di candela rischiasse di diventare solo candela?
Davvero — chi se ne importa?
Perché in questo angolo caldo e selvaggio del Salento, ciò che celebriamo davvero è la connessione. Tutto il resto è solo bontà, caos e amore su un piatto.
image cited… hope thats ok with HSBC
Square Meals for a Round Planet 